Dive Bar Saints
by HakushoRurouni
Summary: A devil in lawyer's clothing. A foul-mouthed, alcoholic PI. An unbreakable hero taking Harlem on his shoulders. A long-lost billionaire trying to find his place in the world. When it comes to finding themselves a place to call home, they were lost for the longest time. Then, one by one, they stumble upon a hole-in-the-wall dive bar in the middle of Hell's Kitchen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This one came about after listening to Home Free's **_**Dive Bar Saints**_**. This song practically screamed '**_**Defenders'**_** at me and I couldn't wait to start writing. Listening to the song on repeat, I can honestly say that it can fit both a happy, care-free environment or a somber, reflective one. We'll see both throughout this fic. **

**Each chapter of the story will play off the lyrics in the song, though not _all_ of them, as I do want to be able to sleep at some point in time in the next few weeks. We're d****efinitely going to be AU, mostly in regard to my manipulation of the timeline, so if you're a diehard 'this-is-how-it's-_supposed_-to-be' you're out of luck. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, nor the song _Dive Bar Saints_ by Home Free. I just can't handle _not_ having enough _Defenders_ stories. This is the result. **

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – Midnight Confessions**_

_Josie's_ had been a random, spur of the moment choice way back before they'd established _Nelson and Murdock_. Both Matt and Foggy had finally cleared everything from classes to the Bar and needed somewhere they could just relax and decompress after all the effort they'd put into the pursuit of their dreams.

Now, the dive bar was a staple of their week.

Karen's addition to their foray into greasy food and copious amounts of liquor consumption – sometimes multiple times a week – had only drawn a raised brow from Josie before the bartending owner shrugged and served them up their usual.

"I'm just saying, Foggy, we could've done a lot worse than a couple crates of bananas," Karen said after a sip of her beer, lips turned up as she tried to soothe the inebriated lawyer's ire.

Foggy snorted. "Oh, I know. _I'm_ just saying that I would've preferred those bananas be, you know, in the form of pie or something! You _do_ realize we're never going to get through all of them before they go bad, right?"

"Huh, well, that's a simple fix, Fog," Matt offered with a smirk, slapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We'll just give them out to potential clients. Offer them up in the waiting room like mints or candy at the high-priced attorneys' offices. Everybody loves free stuff."

He and Karen laughed at the long-haired man's incredulous expression and watched fondly as he pouted before snagging a handful of fries from the bountiful offering they'd ordered almost an hour ago.

Grimacing at the cold, deep-fried potatoes, Foggy glanced at his watch. "Christ, is it midnight already? I feel like we just got here."

"Good thing the office is closed tomorrow, huh?" Karen teased knowing he wouldn't be the only one with a hangover in the morning.

"It's the little things like that that get me through life," Foggy grinned, popping another French fry. "One day at a time."

Matt smiled, shaking his head at the ease with which the other man seemed to roll through life. Even in the face of all the shit going on with Wilson Fisk, Foggy still found a way to smile and be genuine about it. If he were honest with himself, the last time he could remember having such a laissez faire attitude was before his father's passing.

All he saw in front of him now was a dangerous enemy.

"You okay there, Matt?" Karen asked, her voice snapping the broody half of _Nelson and Murdock_ out of his funk. "You went quiet there for a minute."

"I'm fine, Karen," assured the blind man, a half-smile forcing its way to his lips. "Just thinking about the Fisk case."

Foggy groaned, running a greasy hand through his hair. "Dude, you have _got_ to let it go for _one_ night! I _promise _you; Wilson Fisk will still be there in the morning." He paused. "I can't say the same for Monday, though, considering tomorrow's not a workday and all."

"I know, I know," Matt conceded with a sigh. He played with the lip of his glass, contemplating the amber liquid he could hear bubbling at the bottom. "I just have this…_feeling_ that something bad is going to happen. The man is the antithesis of everything that we stand for and it _infuriates_ me to think that he's got an ace up his sleeve. I don't know about you two, but I haven't been able to sense any kind of fear or self-doubt from him since the start of the case. It's unnerving."

Karen and Foggy looked at each other, concern for their friend reflected in both their eyes, wanting to reassure him that they would come out victorious and put his mind at ease, but not wanting to lie either.

Finally, Karen spoke, taking Matt's free hand in her own and giving it a squeeze. "We've done our best with what we had to work with. You and Foggy have fought tooth and nail in the trenches in front of an entire court room and plead your case to the jury as eloquently and passionately as I've ever seen. Everything rests with the jury and, no matter _what_ the results, we have to be content with knowing we did everything possible to put Fisk away."

"Because that's the law, bud," Foggy added, knocking back the rest of his beer. On seeing the disgruntled expression still on Matt's face, he sighed. "Come on, Matt, don't do this to yourself, okay? We're at _Josie's_ for God's sake! Nothing goes wrong at _Josie's_!"

A crash from the bar drew their attention to a pale woman with raven-black hair and a surly expression on her face. She was staring at the bar top as if not seeing it and she held the shattered remnants of a shot glass in her hand.

To her credit, Josie didn't even flinch.

"You break another glass and I'm going to make you pay for it."

In like fashion, Pale and Surly didn't miss a beat. "Put it on my tab."

Looking back to their table, Foggy huffed. "Some people, am I right? Just can't handle their booze!"

His failed attempt at standing five minutes later seemed to corroborate his words.

* * *

Jessica Jones was no stranger to hole-in-the-wall establishments and, as far as hole-in-the-wall establishments went, _Josie's _fit the bill ten times over.

She'd stumbled upon it during a particularly long weekend pub crawl, a habit that Trish had desperately been trying to stamp out fruitlessly for years. It was something she did when life started to become too much for her. Whether it was nightmares of the accident that claimed her family, brooding thoughts dwelling on losing her sister in everything but blood, or flashbacks of her time with Kilgrave, drowning herself in alcohol and shitty bar food helped her cope.

That weekend, the bright, buzzing neon in the window drew her in like a moth to a flame, calling out to her as if a siren to a lost sailor. Next thing she knew, she'd been deep inside a bottle of whiskey and all but sinking into the bowl of peanuts and plate of greasy nachos in front of her.

Tonight's introspection into the whiskey induced haze of her mind was courtesy of her most recent nightmare.

They had started up with renewed vigor a few weeks ago and the P.I. was desperate to try and forget. Unfortunately, as she'd often found when it came to the dark chapters of her life, forgetting wasn't that easy.

Jessica had done her best to avoid Trish because the blonde had the uncanny ability to figure out when her sister was being hiding something. She could tell when Jessica wasn't getting enough sleep or overindulging in the bottle, which puzzled the surly investigator to no end.

She _always_ looked exhausted.

Apparently, thinking of the devil was just as bad as speaking of him as, no sooner had thoughts of her sister passed through Jessica's mind, than the door to the bar creaked open admitting the blonde in question.

Groaning audibly, Jessica knocked back her current shot and signaled Josie for another, very much aware she'd been spotted. Maybe if she kept drinking, she'd be able to weather another stern lecture from the former child star. The last thing she needed was a not-so-subtle segment on _Trish Talks_ come Monday morning encouraging people with alcohol problems to seek help and talk to someone about their problems.

Trish's hand fell to her shoulder just as Josie set her next shot in front of her, and there was a split-second where the P.I. was torn between where to divert her attention first. Hearing her sister take a breath, Jessica threw back the shot, barely feeling the burn as it had long since lost its potency.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Wow, straight to the questions, huh, Patsy?"

Trish scowled. "You've been avoiding me _and_ any attempts I've made to get in touch with you for the last few weeks, Jess. You don't get the kiddie gloves."

Scoffing, Jess grabbed a handful of peanuts and stuffed them into her mouth all in one go. "Alert the papers: Mild-mannered talk show host loves to stick her nose where it doesn't belong!"

"Oh, come on, Jess! I'm _worried_, okay? The last time you went radio silent like this, I found you on a rooftop bawling your eyes out after your boyfriend was _murdered_. You have to work with me here, please!" She took the detective's hands in hers and gazed imploringly into their depths. "I'm here for you, okay? Not to judge, not to advise…just to listen."

Despite her best efforts, Jessica found herself sniffing to keep her composure, the moisture building in her eyes threatening to fall. She swallowed thickly and, with a weary sigh, squeezed Trish's hands and started to talk.

"I'm having nightmares again…"

* * *

Before she'd moved to Harlem to be with Luke, Claire had been invited to _Josie's_ more than once by the staff of _Nelson & Murdock_, all of which she'd accepted. She'd found the dimly lit atmosphere of the bar – coupled with the low, consistent murmur of voices and random music playing from the jukebox in the corner – a healing balm for her frazzled nerves.

Considering how often she played nurse to the blind lawyer with a tendency to show up on her doorstep beaten black and blue and covered in blood, she felt the heavy amount of alcohol she consumed very much justified. Having to sit and hold a conversation with good people while pretending she _didn't _know about Matt's vigilante night life didn't help matters either.

Still, the bar held good memories and a special place in her heart.

It was with that thought in mind she brought Luke to _Josie's _on a random weekend date night. Between her work as a nurse and his trying to make Harlem great again one person at a time, they rarely had free time together that didn't involve them sleeping. They even managed to wake up at different times which baffled the slight nurse to no end. Luke was a notoriously light sleeper, yet he never stirred when she rolled out of bed. On the flip side, Luke wasn't exactly small and there was a definite shift in any furniture when he vacated it.

Claire guessed some mysteries would remain unsolved.

"So, for the first time in I don't know how long we finally get some 'us' time and _this_ is where you want to spend it? A bar that looks like it's been around since Prohibition?" Luke asked gazing around the room with a carefully neutral expression.

"As I recall, you were working in a place much like this when I met you," Claire countered, smirk playing at her lips. "It wasn't all that long ago, was it?"

Luke chuckled, his stoic visage breaking. "Fair enough. Though at least my place _looked_ clean – can't say the same for here."

Claire grabbed a table while Luke went to the bar for drinks and food. He raised an eyebrow at the pointed glower the bartender threw his way but shrugged it off when she handed over the beer and told him – gruffly – that their food would be out when it was out.

Taking a seat across from Claire, Luke saw she was laughing quietly to herself. "What?"

"Josie was certainly giving you a look over there."

Luke's mouth fell open. "_That_ was Josie?"

"Yup. And judging by the scowl on her face, she heard every word you said about her bar," Claire laughed louder this time, only stopping to take a sip from the bottle Luke offered. "You sure know how to make an impression, don't you?"

A heavy sigh prefaced the Hero of Harlem's next words and he raised his hands in defeat. "I confess, it was not my best moment. But, come on, Claire – there are peanuts on the floor! I was crunching the whole way to and from the bar."

A grunt from his left revealed a displeased looking Josie holding their food, stink-eye at full power. She didn't say a word, but her glare spoke volumes. Setting their meals roughly on the table, she threw one last look at Luke, then a questioning glance and shake of her head at Claire, before rolling her eyes and heading back to the bar.

"I have never seen that woman look _that_ pissed about anything," Claire snickered, grabbing the ketchup bottle and dispensing a good amount onto her fries. "That look…wow."

Luke grunted, taking a moment to shake himself out of the stupor Josie's gaze had left him in. "I never thought I'd see the day when any woman terrified me as much as my mother did. That day has come, Claire, and that woman is the bartender of this," he glanced over his shoulder, paranoid after putting his foot in his mouth twice in the last ten minutes. "Fine and _glorious_ establishment!"

* * *

"You're sure this is the place Claire was talking about?" Danny asked skepticism obvious as he and Colleen walked through the door of _Josie's_, finding solace from the bitter cold of the winter wind that had moved into the city almost overnight. "This doesn't seem like somewhere she'd frequent."

Colleen raised a perfectly manicured brow. "Is that judgment I hear from the great Iron Fist?"

"No," Danny sighed. "Just surprised, I guess. It's…cozy. Homey."

There was a snort from the bar, where an older woman worked cleaning shot glasses. She didn't say a word, content to continue her task, but she did offer the couple what appeared to be a smile though it could also have been a grimace.

"Booth or bar?" Colleen questioned from their spot just inside the door.

Danny thought about it for a moment then jerked his head toward the back corner of the bar where a smaller booth sat vacant and well away from the nearest occupied seats. Since coming back from K'un Lun, it had been hard for the martial artist to acclimate to overly public places, thus the choice in seating. Though on examining him for a moment, Colleen couldn't help but note he seemed too fascinated by his surroundings to let his worries weigh him down.

"Booth it is. You go grab the table, I'll get us something to drink and put in our order. Burger alright with you?"

"Yeah, that'll work," Danny said with a nod and a grin. He trudged off to the back of the room, eyes actively taking in every little detail around him.

From the scratched-up tables to the rough looking congregation that made up the bar's occupants, it all added to that initial feeling of home he'd gotten upon walking in. He got a few appraising looks, but the curious eyes moved on soon enough, instead more interested in bringing their focus back to the friends, lovers, or whoever else they'd brought with them.

Arriving at the table, he realized there was a bit more mess from the table's previous inhabitants than he'd thought. He looked around for someone he could flag down for assistance when, as though summoned by his very thoughts, a bus boy came out from the back, the double doors leading to the kitchen swinging back and forth behind him.

"I got you, boss," the young man said, an easy grin on his face as he immediately started moving the few left over dishes from the table. "First time here?"

Danny blinked. "Uh…yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

Grabbing a towel from over his shoulder, the bus boy wiped down the table with quick, broad strokes. "Hell, I know everybody who comes here. _Josie's_ doesn't exactly attract new people on the regular, you know? I love this bar, but the first step is getting over the whole, 'this place looks like a shithole' vibe that you get from the outside and walking through the door. Suffice to say, when new people walk in, it's easy to spot."

"Heh, you're not wrong. I _did_ question my friend's sanity when she insisted this was the place." Danny laughed, shrugging a shoulder. "It was recommended to her by a friend."

"That's how most of our new clientele find this place," the man snorted and, with a flick, tossed the wet towel back over his shoulder. He stuck his hand out to Danny. "Name's Adam, by the way. Good to meet you."

Taking his hand, Danny answered with a smile of his own. "Likewise. I'm Danny." Catching sight of his girlfriend out of the corner of his eye, he gestured toward her. "And this is Colleen, the woman responsible for my being here tonight."

"Pleasure, ma'am," Adam nodded at the woman as he wiped down the table one last time with a dry towel. "I'm Adam."

Setting their drinks down, Colleen gave him a beatific smile. "I'm happy to see Danny made a friend while I was gone. Colleen," she shook his proffered hand. "Thanks for clearing up the table."

"It's what I do, ma'am. It is what I do!" Adam gave the couple a wink and a salute as he headed off toward where another party had just gotten up. "You two enjoy yourselves tonight, yeah? I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."

Finally taking a seat, Colleen gifted Danny with a smirk. "He was nice. I'm glad you didn't shut down this time. That's a pretty big step for you, Danny."

A grin spread across the Iron Fist's face. Picking up his beer, he took a swig from the bottle before answering her unasked question of 'why.' "He's good people. I think I'm gonna like _Josie's_. Like, a _lot_."

Colleen laughed.

* * *

**A/N: There you go, ladies and gentlemen! **

**So, in case you're wondering, this story isn't going to be incredibly long in the chapter length department. I'm going for a more episodic feel in that each group, for the most part, is there on different nights living their own lives and blissfully unaware of each other. Of course, even in fanfic writing, Jessica manages to break the mold and pop up in the very first segment, so who knows. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello all, and welcome back to _Dive Bar Saints_! I'd like to give a shout out to those of you who followed/favorited and to Usha for the review. As is the case for most fanfiction writers, feedback is motivation and I love hearing what you all have to say. **

**As I said before, this story is going to play with the timeline of the shows and the characters. Just wanted to cover my bases there. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the lyrics used to name the chapters. They belong to DC/CW and _Home Free_ (an amazing group of talented singers), respectively. **

* * *

_**Chapter 2 – Whiskey Therapy Sessions**_

Jessica had never hoped she could literally drown herself in liquor before her most recent case. In the wake of its conclusion, she was determined to try.

Josie, however, seemed content to thwart her every attempt, studiously spacing out shots under the guise of an aging, forgetful bartender that everyone damn well knew she wasn't.

A couple had sought out the PI's services in finding their missing daughter. She'd followed leads, jumped to a few conclusions, until finally she'd found the girl in the bed of a hotel room looking terrified and ashamed, the smell of urine hanging in the air. Jessica had had her suspicions of Kilgrave's return long before the case came to her door, but the girl confined to the bed unable to move confirmed her worst fears.

She'd been an idiot to assume the bastard's instructions would have ended when she handed over the daughter to her parents. Everything had played in slow motion as she watched the girl reach into her purse and pull out a revolver.

The macabre scene in the elevator, blood splattered everywhere and two dead bodies surrounding the blank-faced murderer would stay in her mind forever.

Hope's last words still echoed in her head.

"_Smile, Jessica." _

Shivering, Jess found her glass once again empty and had to fight the urge to crush it in her hands. The lack of liquor meant that she'd start to let her mind wander further than just today – further than the gruesome tableau her failure left Hope with.

Behind her, the crack of manufactured balls against one another from the pool table caused her to flinch, the sound of staccato gunshots rushing back to her.

"Fucking Rob," she cursed under her breath, sending a harsh look over her shoulder at the bar's resident pool shark, who's customary ensemble of black and white – complimented by his own personal cue – looked as fresh as always, showing the P.I. he hadn't had to work too hard so far tonight. "Why don't you go fucking_ home_ once in a while?"

Jessica raised her empty glass at Josie, doing her best to ignore the combination of good-natured ribbing and laughter from one of the tables toward the back, its occupants not caring for her fragile state of mind. "Hit me."

With a shake of her head, Josie made a show of trying to find the near empty whiskey bottle she'd cracked open when the detective came in three hours ago. A long moment stretched into a minute before she turned back to her customer, liquor in hand, and shuffled over, feet dragging ridiculously with each step.

"God dammit, Josie!" Jess groused, her grip on the glass increasing with her temper. "Would you quit acting like you're a hundred-year-old, hunch backed grandma and pour my damn shot?! I'm really not in the mood for this."

Josie grunted in acknowledgment but didn't pick up her pace.

Growling, Jessica felt her grip on her emotions slipping. "Josie _please_ don't do this with me right now. I just…I just want to forget for the night." Her voice cracked and, despite her best attempts, she knew her eyes were glassy.

"You know the drink won't mean shit in a few hours," Josie spoke, finally breaking her silence. "It's not a solution, either. Just numbs the pain for a bit."

The glass in Jessica's hand shattered.

"You break another glass and I'm going to make you pay for it," Josie stated easily, face passive, though it no doubt hid her annoyance.

And her pity.

"Put it on my tab," Jess bit out, eyes narrowed in challenge as glared down the bartender.

They stared each other down for a good minute, neither woman backing down. For one, she'd issued the standoff and couldn't – _wouldn't_ – lose anymore of her already low self-worth, refusing to blink or back down. The other, long used to customers with the same kind of attitude, could see just how raw the emotional wounds were through the glare burning its way across the bar top.

Sometimes people just needed to fall before they could stand back up and start again.

As she watched Josie pour the shot, Jessica let out a shuddering breath, relief flooding her body and allowing her to relax at the soothing sound of pooling liquid.

"…Thank you."

* * *

In hindsight, leaving the roof access door to his apartment open probably wasn't the best idea, though he'd never thought it would've been Foggy making use of it and finding out he was Daredevil in one fell swoop. Of course, he'd _also_ never thought he would've gotten his ass kicked so bad he'd have to forfeit his alter-ego to his best friend in order to stay alive.

That was never how he'd wanted Foggy to find out.

If he had to be honest – made easier considering his reflection was entirely internal – he'd _never_ wanted his friend to discover his secret. There was already so much danger inherent with being a vigilante without adding a defenseless Foggy into the mix. Not to mention that if any of his enemies figured out his identity, his partner would be the first person they'd go after.

Swirling his sixth beer around, he swore silently and took a sip, relishing the lightheaded, fuzzy feeling he'd embraced almost an hour and four shots ago.

Although he hated the fact he was now outed to his friend, he _was_ thankful Foggy managed to get a hold of Claire. If he hadn't, Matt was pretty sure Father Lantom would be giving a sermon at his funeral and instead of pissed, Foggy would be a blubbering mess only holding it together for Karen's sake.

Karen finding out had been a twist he honestly never saw coming.

While Foggy showing up at his place had been a calculated risk, the budding journalist informed him that she'd come over because she'd had a bad feeling and was worried about him. Walking in on Claire stitching him back together…well, the shit-show that had followed nearly got the cops called on them and resulted in two of his closest friends going radio silent and refusing his calls.

But Matt had long ago determined that if the choice between standing by while criminals and evil flourished and keeping his friends came up, as much as it pained him, he would remain Daredevil.

The hypothetical becoming reality hurt a lot more than he thought it would.

Suddenly, the beer tasted flat and stale and he felt a significant drop in his senses, something that should have set alarm bells ringing. But on this particular night, with his mind anywhere but in the present, Matt merely raised a finger calling for another drink.

When he knocked the bottle over attempting to pick it up, sending beer spilling all over the bar top, it drew a frustrated sigh from Josie who'd been watching him while cleaning wiping down the far end of the bar.

Matt, too emotionally drained to care anymore, rested his head on the cool counter.

"You look how I feel…and then some. Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

It took a lot more than he was willing to admit to keep himself from jumping at the sudden voice from his right. Matt made a concerted effort to turn his head in a slow and controlled manner, so as not to let on that his heart currently resided in his throat. He knew two things about the stranger outright: she was female and had seemingly no filter.

"Pardon?"

"Huh, didn't think you were hard of hearing too. Just blind," she continued without pause. The sound of her clothes shifting – leather, denim, and cotton moving in synchronicity – gave him a vague image of his verbal assailant who threw back a shot of whiskey with practiced efficiency, not even flinching as she swallowed the liquor as if it were water.

From what his dulled senses could tell, she was slight but nearly as tall as he was and composed of lean, lithe muscle. Though her entire posture screamed 'I don't give a fuck,' Matt's gut told him she could be ready to throw down at a moment's notice.

"Do I…know you?"

She grunted. "Nope. But I saw you over here looking all alone and pathetic and thought, 'hey, why can't we be alone and pathetic together while getting completely smashed?'" Another shift of clothing as she shrugged. "I just didn't want to be alone tonight, I guess."

Matt knew he should probably feel insulted, but at the same time, he appreciated her honesty. He grinned. "What the hell. Sure beats drinking alone. I'm Matt. Matt Murdock."

He could hear the muscles in her face shifting into a smile at his response and his own smile grew even more as her posture relaxed just a little bit more.

"Jessica Jones."

* * *

"It just doesn't make any kind of sense, Karen!" Foggy yelled with flailing arms, his intoxicated state rendering him incapable of keeping his voice down. His shouted words drew the attention of Josie and a few nearby patrons. "How could he do this to us?!"

Scrambling to move their glasses and food out of the way, Karen tried to shush the irate lawyer. "Hey, Foggy, how 'bout using your inside voice, huh? I know you're upset – I am too – but that doesn't mean you should go throwing our mutual acquaintance under the bus in the middle of _Josie's_, okay? Please? He deserves that much."

Foggy growled but followed her request. His next words came in a harsh whisper. "How can you _defend _him, Karen? He's been lying to us – to _me_ – for _years_! I mean, _fuck_, what does he have to do to piss you off? Get himself killed in some messed up attempt to clean up the city?!"

"Don't even joke about that," Karen bit back, eyes lighting with fury.

Realizing he'd overstepped, Foggy closed his eyes and sighed. "You're right. Sorry. That's actually a very real possibility with him gallivanting all over the city once the sun sets." He stared down at his shot glass; the glass tinted dark thanks to the whiskey inside and snorted at the unintentional parallel to Matt the drink represented now that everything was out in the open.

That once pristine persona of a devout, do-good, blind lawyer forever tarnished by the violence and darkness that was Daredevil.

Or Matt Murdock, as it were.

"Seriously though," he started again, knocking back the shot and hissing as the drink burned before settling in his chest to burn some more. "How are you not ready to go nuclear?"

Even amidst the smoky haze that filtered through the bar from some of the older patrons, an obvious flush spilled over the reporter's face. "It's not that I'm _not_ angry he kept this from us, it's just…"

When she blushed again, something clicked in Foggy's brain. "You're not angry because you're distracted. And the only real distraction that we've had lately is…oh, for shit's sake, Karen!"

"What?" The reporter was a little perplexed with how rapidly the focus of the conversation shifted. Still, the involuntary squeak that accompanied her interrogative pronoun certainly didn't help. By the look on his face, it only bolstered Foggy's confidence.

There was blood in the water, and Foggy smelled it.

"It's _him_, isn't it? You've been thinking about that crazy son of a bitch ever since that debacle the papers called '_The Trial of the Century_!'" He gave her a pleading look. "_Please_ tell me I'm wrong and you're not pining after The Punisher!"

Her silence spoke volumes.

"Josie! I'm gonna need the bottle, please!"

* * *

Danny, head resting on his folded arms, stared into the half-empty glass in front of him, the beer having long since warmed. His eyes were red, his clothes were disheveled and, when the dim light hit his face just right, faded tear tracks glistened softly.

Things had been going so well since coming back to civilization: his company was running as smoothly as ever, he was reconnecting with his childhood friends, technology was _finally_ starting to make sense, and he'd managed to get past Colleen's substantial walls.

And then she'd turned out to be with The Hand.

How could he have missed it? As the Iron Fist, it was his sworn mission to eradicate The Hand and their followers to keep them from taking over the world! Yet here he was, spending his every waking hour with her, getting to know her, falling in _love_ with her, and then she pulled the rug out from under him.

"_No, Danny, The Hand is _good_! We want to help people, that's what we've been doing for as long as I can remember."_

Her words echoed loudly in his head not doing his headache any favors. Any buzz he might've had from the first couple of beers had evaporated along with the condensation that'd once adorned his abandoned bottle.

They'd argued for hours after her association was revealed. Danny couldn't remember ever screaming so loud for so long in his life. Not even the most brutal training the monks back in K'un Lun had put him through yielded such a violent reaction. They'd parted on less than amicable terms with Colleen opting to leave the city and head back to her sensei and his – as Danny had put it – school for brainwashing and world domination.

"Rough night?"

Danny physically jumped at the voice, it's deep bass quality seeming to shake the room. Mustering the energy to shift his gaze up to the owner, he took in the brown hair that hung just above broad shoulders, the circle style beard adorning a full face, and warm, brown eyes staring right back at him with an easy expression. Adorned in a gray t-shirt, jean jacket, and jeans, the man was a familiar figure.

"Hey, Tim," Danny greeted, voice flat and the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. "Isn't it against policy to leave your post while you're bouncing?"

Tim chuckled deeply, a low rumble that reminded the martial artist of rolling thunder. "Well, Josie's a little more lenient at the end of the night. Besides, it's just you and Mr. Wilks left, and he's passed out at the bar."

Angling his head, Danny the older man in question slumped over in one of the high stools, one arm acting as a pillow and the other clutching at an empty bottle. Josie, looking more amused than annoyed, picked up the phone from its cradle and dialed, what Danny assumed, was the cab company to get the inebriated man a ride home.

When he continued his examination of the bar, he realized that Tim's claim was true. Looking at his watch, Danny whistled at the glowing hands declaring it to be just after four in the morning.

"Damn, I didn't think it was that late," he muttered, sitting up for the first time in what he guessed was hours. His back cracked audibly, and he rolled out his shoulders to shake out some of the stiffness that'd developed. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, no worries. You're not the first person to lose track of time in a bar who's got heavier things on his mind. Everything alright?"

Reluctant to answer, Danny shook his head instead.

"Hmm," Tim hummed thoughtfully. "I guess it's safe to say it has something to do with your lady friend?"

"H-How'd you know?" Danny asked, stunned at the accurate question.

The bouncer shrugged. "She's been with you every time you've come in, so it's not that hard of a conclusion to draw. Plus, I've seen a lot of broken hearts in this place and the requisite attempts to numb the pain." He nodded toward the room temperature beer on the table. "Need an ear?"

With a sigh, Danny began the tale that'd been plaguing him the entire night, making a point to water down the evil organization angle involving The Hand.

Tim listened studiously, not making a sound. He nodded whenever Danny voiced questions, he'd probably been asking himself all night knowing they were rhetorical. A thoughtful look crossed his face when Danny finished and, after a beat, he spoke.

"You ever think she might not know?"

Danny blinked owlishly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this 'gang' she's a part of, it's all she's known her whole life, right?" Tim asked, patient in the face of the younger man's drunken state.

"Pretty much, yeah."

The bouncer nodded. "If her gang is as bad as you say they are, there's a good chance they might have just kept her away from their…questionable activities. Treated her like a mushroom."

"Excuse me?"

"Kept in the dark and fed a load of shit," Tim explained simply.

"I…," Danny's words died in his throat as Tim's words and meaning hit home. Amid the heated arguments and harsh words, that thought had never occurred to him. He'd been too consumed by his hate for The Hand and Colleen's betrayal, and his tunnel vision had taken over. "Huh. That's…I never thought…"

Another rumbling chuckle drew his attention back to _Josie's_ first line of defense against drunken chaos and disorder. "It happens. Granted, maybe not always in your particular way, but that's why communication is important. Especially if you're wanting something more than friendship."

Danny's face went from normal to flaming red in two seconds flat.

"I didn't…we don't…" he spluttered, this time his lack of coherent speech due to embarrassment rather than a crass metaphor. After another failed attempt to speak, he heaved a defeated sigh. "It's never gonna happen, not after the way I acted."

_Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzz!_

Danny's phone vibrating caught both men's attention. Reaching a hand out the Iron Fist picked up the smart device to see who was calling and his eyes went wide at the name on the screen.

_Colleen_.

"Well, look at that," Tim said, amusement coloring his words. He gave the stunned warrior a grin. "I'd answer it if I were you. Signs don't come much clearer than that." With that, the bouncer gave him a wink and stood up, walking over to the bar and gently shaking Mr. Wilks awake. "Come on, Mr. Wilks. Josie's got a cab waiting out front for you so you can get home."

Swallowing, Danny swiped to answer and held the phone to his ear. "Hey."

* * *

Pulling the door open for Claire, Luke released a weary sigh as they stepped into _Josie's_, the now familiar atmosphere of the place washing over him and acting like a healing balm after the rigors of the last few days.

Almost overnight, Harlem had turned on him and, by proxy, anyone he associated with.

He smiled a little watching Claire greet the bouncer with a smile and a hug, both laughing at something she said. He knew he wasn't the only one who'd suffered recently, and he was infinitely grateful that his girlfriend was such a strong person. He'd known people in similar situations who would have fled under all the negative attention long before now.

"Evening, Luke," Tim said, offering his hand which the super-powered man shook while bringing him in for a one-armed hug.

"How's it going, Tim?"

He shrugged. "A couple of rowdy tables, a minor spat that nearly broke the jukebox. Pretty slow for a Friday in this neighborhood to be honest."

Luke laughed and smiled when he felt Clarie's hand in his. "So I've heard. You all have some crazy stuff go down in Hell's Kitchen, don't you?"

"It's why the rent's so cheap."

Bidding the bartender goodbye, the couple retreated to their normal booth in the back of the bar after making a quick stop at the bar for drinks and to put in a food order. There were a few familiar faces scattered throughout the place, some of whom waved in greeting as they passed by. They settled in, the worn leather giving easily beneath their weight, jackets thrown haphazardly in their respective corners.

Claire went to speak but stopped and stared as Luke picked up his beer and began to chug it as though it was water. Each gulp was long and drawn out, the man not letting up for a moment as the drink slowly but surely disappeared. With a thud, Luke set the now empty bottle down and let out yet another sigh, staring blankly at the scarred table, eyes reading the names and words etched there from countless years and people.

She reached out, setting her hand on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze. When he finally lifted his gaze from the table to meet hers, Claire gave him a soft smile.

"You okay?"

It was a ridiculous question, given the events of the last week, but she figured it would be remiss not to ask. She'd found that with Luke – unlike Matt who would clam up at the first sign of concern from _anyone _and then go off and do something stupid to assuage his guilt – it was better to allow him a day or so to fully digest what had happened before addressing the topic. Being a mentally stable individual, Luke liked to talk his problems out in order to get over them.

Again, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen came to mind.

"Been better," Luke admitted, flipping his hand to lace their fingers together. "It's been ridiculous, you know? I just…last week everything was normal. I could walk down the street and say hi to people without a care in the world. Then, one thing goes wrong – wrong place wrong time – and all of a sudden, Harlem turns on a dime, and I can't so much as blink without hateful words or actions being thrown my way." His expression turned sad. "And it's been trickling down to you because we're together. I'm sorry."

Claire shook her head, closing her eyes in exasperation. "Would you stop apologizing for something you can't control? I already told you that I don't blame you for the actions of others. They're being fed misinformation from a source that they trust, so of course they're not going to question things. What _you_ need to do is figure out how to get out of your own head about it, okay? You won't be any good to anyone if you're second guessing yourself at every turn."

Luke gave her a rueful grin. "You always know what to say to get me to stop moping."

"I'm the girlfriend. It's what I do," the nurse shrugged easily, grinning as their food arrived courtesy of the curly haired, bearded fry cook. She cracked open the ketchup bottle and distributed a copious amount over her fries. "I am your burdened keeper."

* * *

**A/N: There you go, people! Connections are being made, relationships are changing, and we haven't even delved into any of the _Defenders_ stuff yet! Hopefully you've enjoyed this installment and I look forward to hearing from you before the next chapter! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ****Hello again, ladies and gentlemen! I'd like to thank those of you who followed/favorited/reviewed. I like knowing there are actually people out there reading my work! At any rate, chapter 3 is here and we're gonna delve a little deeper into some of the problems our plucky heroes are facing and see how they handle things. **

**Side note: how 'bout that Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. finale, yeah? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Defenders_ or the song _Dive Bar Saints. _They are owned by Marvel and Home Free respectively. **

* * *

**Chapter 3 – As Long As You're Tippin' **

"So, you patch things up with your friends yet, Murdock, or are you still pussyfooting around?"

Matt raised both eyebrows at the P.I.'s greeting. "Hello to you, too, Ms. Jones. Crass as always I see." He grinned when he heard the exaggerated eyeroll. "Would it bother you to actually _try_ and give a normal greeting?"

Jessica scoffed and put a threatening finger in his face, realized the gesture was completely lost on the blind lawyer, scowled, then decided not to waste the moment and shifted her finger to his chest, giving him a rough poke.

"Don't you preach to me about surly salutations, you cocky little shit!" Jess barked, lifting her free hand to signal for a drink from Josie while keeping her finger on Matt's chest. "I seem to remember a pissy, vision-impaired prosecutor who told me, in no uncertain terms, to 'fuck off' three weeks ago when I said hi."

"To be fair, I was already pretty drunk," Matt defended weakly, wincing at her words.

Jess snorted. "You called _me_, asshole." She cleared her throat and did her best impression of Matt. "Uh, hey Jessica, it's Matt. Murdock. Uhm, Matt Murdock. From the bar? We met last weekend and exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up again? I was just calling to see if you still wanted to go to _Josie's_ tonight. You know, have a few drinks and…talk, I guess. I'm, uh, about to head that way and I'd really – BEEP!"

In that moment, seated underneath the stained-glass neon lights of the bar top, Matt was regretting not choosing one of the booths. At least that way his blush would've been mostly obscured in the dim lighting that was the rest of the bar.

"Y_eah_," he drew out the word, attempting to buy some time while his mind scrambled for an explanation. "I _may_ have stretched the truth just a little on that one."

"Oh?" Jess asked, and Matt cringed as he heard the smile she already wore stretch even further. "Do tell."

He took a swig of beer and sighed. "When I called, I was already four shots in and markedly more depressed after a week's worth of no-contact from Foggy and Karen. I was just a _little_ vulnerable and you were – are – the only friend I could talk to."

"So, I'm your last resort, huh?"

Eyes widening in panic, Matt shook his head. "NO! No, no, no, no! Jess, that's not what I meant! I – "

"Easy, Murdock, I'm just messing with you. I know what you meant," the P.I. teased, patting his hand in a placating manner. "Also, if we're being honest, I'd already been through half a bottle back at the office when you called. I sort of forgot we were supposed to meet until I saw your name pop up on my phone."

"Well why didn't you answer?"

Jessica laughed. "What, and miss your Oscar-worthy voicemail?" He gave her a flat stare and, grudgingly, she admitted that despite lacking sight – and despite the crimson tinted glasses that hid his eyes– he pulled the look off well. She sighed and Matt felt her smirk waver the slightest bit before she recovered her equilibrium. "Like I said, I was well into my daily recommended serving of booze. I just so happened to be feeling open to human interaction that day and in that particular moment, so I thought, why the hell not?"

They laughed and took a drink, Jessica tossing back yet another shot while Matt had another sip of beer.

"To answer your original question," the vigilante said as he put his bottle down, smile fading into a grimace. "No, I haven't fixed things with my friends. Though I haven't exactly gone out of my way to talk with them outside of some stilted conversation in passing."

Grabbing a handful of peanuts, the PI huffed. "And your little practice is all but dissolved?"

"Yeah. _Nelson & Murdock_ is no more. Foggy took a job at _Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz_ and, from what I've heard, is doing pretty well for himself."

"No shit?" Jessica exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up. "I've worked with Hogarth before. Great lawyer, shitty person. I thought I was the coldest bitch I knew, but Hogarth? She takes the cake."

Matt smirked and tried to hide it by taking another drink. "I didn't think that was possible." He laughed again when Jessica slapped his shoulder in retaliation. "Assaulting a blind man, Ms. Jones? Really not helping your case."

"Bite me."

"Just say where."

Jess' eyes went wide at his words and, a moment later, she grinned as realization settled in and the lawyer flushed bright red. His self-assured attitude shifted drastically and suddenly – to the PI's _immense_ satisfaction – he refused to meet her gaze.

Figuratively _and_ literally.

"Well, well, well," she drawled leaning into Matt's personal space with every intention of making him uncomfortable. "Is that your inner horn-dog coming out to play, Murdock?"

"N-no! I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't –" Matt could feel his face burning and he couldn't tell if the pounding in his ears was his heart or someone else's. A distinction that he'd normally be able to make in seconds and without any trouble whatsoever.

Mouth next to his ear, Jessica's breathy whisper sent a shiver down his spine.

"Because I'd be inclined to see that side of you, provided you can back it up, prosecutor."

At the other end of the bar, busily doling out drinks to patrons who were growing increasingly more intoxicated and rambunctious, Josie heard the exchange, saw Matt's flustered state and the predatory look in Jessica's eyes, and snorted.

"Kids."

* * *

"I mean, what the actual _fuck_!"

Josie's eyebrows nearly vanished in her hair as she watched the normally stoic and easy-going nurse rant and rave wildly from her seat at the bar, beer sloshing from side to side and threatening to spill over the rim of her glass. Glancing at her watch, the bartender whistled, impressed that whatever – or _whoever_ as seemed to be the case – pissed her off managed to get her smashed before eight.

She'd only been at the bar for a little over half an hour.

"Okay, girl, let's calm down just a bit," Foggy placated, hands up both to try and calm her down and signal his surrender in the event the former didn't work. "We _are_ in public after all."

"No! Fuck that!" Claire shouted back vehemently and would have tipped over sideways with her sudden movement had it not been for Karen's hand on her shoulder. "I think I deserve a night where I can just bitch about the inconsiderate _jackasses _in our lives! _Especially_ when they wind up on _my_ doorstep in the middle of the fucking night, bleeding and near-death just expecting me to drop everything and _fix them_!"

Thankfully, the early hour meant there were fewer patrons milling about to hear the nurse's heated lamentations. Aside from them, old Mr. Wilks had already taken up his customary seat and slumped posture, too distracted by whatever was on his mind to care about everything else, while a handful of scattered drunks puttered around in the background.

Karen righted the teetering brunette and tried to fight down a smile. "Come on, Claire. It can't be that bad, right? I mean, Matt's been keeping things pretty tame lately from what we've been able to figure out through tabloids and hearsay."

"Well, unfortunately he's not the only idiot running around like he's invincible," groused Claire, taking a vicious bite out of her half-eaten burger. She chewed for a moment, face twisting as she fought to chew and remain angry at the same time. "As it happens, I'm currently dating one such idiot only _his_ claim to fame isn't athleticism bordering on the ridiculous, but unbreakable skin and super strength that's only matched by his pig-headedness!"

"Wait a second," Foggy breathed with a gasp, eyes shooting open as he put two and two together. His next words, thankfully, came out in a rushed hiss. "You're _dating_ Luke Cage?! The Hero of Harlem? _That's_ the guy you've been yelling and screaming about for the past hour?"

Karen buried her face in her hands at her former co-worker's lack of subtlety.

"I'm sorry, _you_ try keeping your sanity when the person you love most in the world stumbles into your apartment at two in the _fucking_ morning with _internal_ damage that you can't get to because his skin in impenetrable!" Claire had gone from pissed to hysterical and was rounding third base on the way to home. Angry tears were now making their way down her cheeks and onto the table, even as she searched fruitlessly for more fries to distract herself from the emotional upheaval occurring within her.

"Claire…" Karen said softly, wrapping an arm around the other woman and pulling her into a hug.

"You know the worst part?" Claire continued, though the heat was gone from her words and she'd taken on a resigned look, leaning into Karen. "He _knows_ that I know he can't just sit by and do nothing. That's just the kind of person he is. He puts everyone else's well-being before his own. What kind of person would _I _be if I gave him a fucked-up ultimatum asking him to choose between who he is and me?" She chuckled, the corner of her mouth twitching. "That's why I fell in love with him."

Foggy looked like he'd swallowed something sour, his lips pursed and eyes downcast. "Yeah, well…"

"Besides, it's not like he goes sneaking off in the middle of the night without a word, right? I always know when I should have the first aid kit handy," Claire added with a giggle, taking a drink.

"If only _all_ vigilantes were that considerate," Foggy mumbled into his hands, still refusing to look up despite his pointed barb.

Karen sighed from her seat beside Claire. "Oh, come on, Foggy. Don't you think the whole cold-shoulder thing has gone on long enough? I've been thinking that maybe we should have heard Matt out before just…abandoning him."

"Mmm, not gonna lie, that was a dick move," Claire chimed in. "I've gotten a couple of calls from him since you all split. He tried to hide it, but he was definitely torn up about the whole thing. But, if I had to guess, I'd say he's found something to keep him occupied – or at least happy. The last couple of times we've talked, he's sounded more like his old self." She cocked her head as a thought occurred. "Or maybe it's some_one_."

That brought the other two up short.

"Say what now?" Foggy asked, just managing to catch himself as his chin slipped from where it rested on the heel of his hand, shock written across his face.

Likewise, Karen looked like she'd just been told the Avengers had agreed to a sit-down interview for the _Bulletin_ and she had the exclusive. Sure, she'd followed Foggy's lead on keeping away from Matt – after all, the revelation that he was Daredevil had considerably rocked their world – but Karen was, by and large, a forgiving person.

And a worrywart.

Between not being privy to Matt's antics other than what made it to the local news and trying to deal with her conflicting feelings for Frank 'Let's Blow Shit Up and Leave A Mountain of Bodies' Castle, she constantly marveled at the fact that she hadn't gone gray yet.

Finding out that Matt might have found a love interest amid their cold war warmed her heart. It also sparked a perhaps unhealthy curiosity as to the identity of said person. The investigative reporter in Karen's mind all but screaming she begin snooping as soon as possible.

Foggy turned his gaze on Jodi – eyes torn between betrayal and accusation – as the bartender continued cleaning glasses. "Did you know about this, Jodi?! Has our Matt _actually_ taken an interest in someone?"

Josie swiped her towel over the rim of the glass in her hand a final time, took one last appraising glance at the now spotless finish, and then put the dish on a rack. Glancing at the incredulous looking lawyer, the curious reporter, the amused nurse, and, finally, the empty tip jar, Josie snorted.

"I don't get tipped enough to gossip with you 'bout your friend, Mr. Uptown."

Foggy buried his face in his hands with a groan as Karen and Claire burst into drunken laughter.

* * *

Walking into the bar, Colleen breathed a hurried greeting to Tim who shot her a grin and nodded toward the bar.

"I reckon your boyfriend is starting to test Josie's patience," the big man rumbled, voice a mixture of amused and concerned, though whether the was at her or for her, Collen couldn't be sure.

Looking passed the first couple of tables, one of which held what looked to be a bachelorette party in full swing, the swordswoman spotted Danny chatting – read _shouting_ – at Josie and a dark-skinned man who absolutely dwarfed him in both stature and muscularity. Danny held a tall glass of beer in one hand while he gesticulated wildly with the other, his audience of two watching the liquid with wary eyes.

"You know," Colleen said glancing back at Tim with the look of someone who'd very much reached the end of her patience. "I'm finding it harder and harder to summon the willpower to pull his ass out of the fire."

Tim shook his head, laughing from deep in his chest. "Ah, go easy on the kid. The way he's told it so far – for the whole bar to hear, mind – he's had a pretty shitty day. Bad fight with a real good friend?"

Colleen had to call on all her considerable training to keep her eyes from shooting open wide at the revelation. She knew Danny's fight with Davos had inflicted emotional as well as physical harm, but to get him to the point where he'd sneaked out of the apartment while she was in the shower and come to the bar to get plastered was more than a little concerning.

"Yeah. Things got pretty nasty."

"Well, from my experience, it's always better getting stuff like that off your chest. Though, I think you might want to corral him before Josie kills him. I don't know if she can handle any more emotional trauma."

As if to prove his point, Danny's voice rose above the din and chatter of the bar, loud and piercing.

"Wouldn't you agree that punching a dragon makes me the legitimate Iron Fist, guys?!"

Josie, the big stranger, and Colleen could only stare at the heavily inebriated billionaire like he'd grown another head. The sound of his glass, which had slipped from his slackened grip when he'd thrown his arms up, crashing into the row of its freshly cleaned brothers was deafening, bringing the activity in the bar to a screeching halt as all eyes focused on the exchange.

"Sweet Christmas."

There was a long stretch of silence during which Colleen tried to calm her racing heart, in total disbelief that her boyfriend had just openly confessed what she could only assume was a good bit of his story about K'un Lun and becoming the Iron Fist while also causing collateral damage. Granted, he went around proclaiming the last bit with alarming regularity sober anyway, so she shouldn't have been too surprised booze would eradicate what little censorship he'd managed to maintain.

Josie blinked for a moment before shaking her head and brushing the young man's words off as some sort of privileged hyperbole. Turning to the brunette and tilting her head at Danny pointedly, she ignored the drunken inquisition. "I'd recommend taking princess here home, sweetheart, before he breaks any _more_ of my things."

"Right," Colleen winced, laughing weakly and ducking her head. Striding from her spot next to the bouncer and to the bar, she pulled a stumbling Danny up out of his seat and tugged him after her, but not before reaching into his back pocket. Withdrawing his wallet, she pulled out a pair of hundreds and, with a nod and nervous smile at Josie, tucked them into the barren tip jar. "Sorry about him. He's had a rough day."

"Hey, you keep compensating me like this, he can break as many glasses as he wants," she snorted. "It'll definitely help balance out Jones' destructive tendencies at any rate."

"Come on, you drunken idiot, let's go home," Colleen sighed, pulling her boyfriend's unsteady frame along behind her as they headed toward the door. "And I swear to God, if you puke on me, I _will_ leave your ass in the bathtub!"

Tim's booming laughter followed them out into the night.

* * *

**A/N: There we go! Despite some of the parts taking a bit to write, I'm really enjoying playing around with the Defenders. And, yes, in case it wasn't blatantly obvious with the first part of the chapter, I am leaning into that DareJones pairing something fierce! You can thank Madam Baggio's _Let's give'em somethin' to talk about _for that. So, like, read it if you haven't because it's a great piece! **

**Let me know what you think and I hope you stick around for the next chapter! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! I know it's been a bit, but life just _loves_ to happen. That and I've been binge-watching new and old shows. But, now we're back!**

**Shout out to those of you who reviewed, favorited, and followed! Your feedback is the lifeblood of my inspiration and a great way to help improve my writing. **

**I won't lie: this one was a little tough to write. Still, I like where it ended up.**

**Disclaimer: In case you're wondering, I _still_ do not own any of the characters or the song which birthed this story. If I did they would not be half as good and people would constantly question continuity...including myself. **

* * *

_**Chapter 4 – A Place to Heal and a Place to Hurt**_

"I don't like this."

A snort and the sound of eyes rolling preceded the PI's response. "Oh my God, you're such a drama queen, Murdock! These people are your _friends_, right? And, if they're anything like you, they've been moping around the last couple of months wishing you were all still working out of your little shop of horrors you called an office."

"Charming as always, eh, Jess?" Matt huffed, a grin on his lips despite her words. When they'd first met, her abrasive attitude and…_unique_ way with words had thrown him off more than a few times. Now, having spent so much time with her and beginning to learn exactly who Jessica Jones was, he knew it was just her way of showing affection.

"I am what I am. Besides, if things go pear-shaped and they gang up on you, I'm gonna bust their fucking heads open." She snorted and knocked back a shot of whiskey, the only signs of it affecting her the slight pull at the corner of her lips and the near microscopic scrunch of her nose. In fact, Matt was pretty sure the only reason _he_ noticed the latter was thanks to his enhanced senses.

Shaking his head, the lawyer chuckled softly. "Please don't kill my friends, Jessica. I don't have a lot of them, remember?"

"Join the club. If you do, we'd have more members than I do friends."

"One of these days, you're going to have to admit that Malcolm is your friend. The guy literally works for nothing and manages the upkeep of your apartment which, with your stellar reputation and legendary temper, is no mean feat," Matt argued, eyebrows raised as he regarded the woman next to him. He heard her scoff and roll her eyes again even as she leaned back into the cushioned seat they shared, brushing his shoulder ever so slightly. A moment later, she sighed in resignation when she couldn't get comfortable and leaned into him.

"Asshole."

Matt couldn't stop the grin that crossed his face.

It had been strange for Matt, at first, when he realized he was falling for the booze-fueled PI. Prior to meeting Jess, Elektra was the only serious relationship he'd ever had and, looking back, it had been nothing but toxic. Stick's first student made a habit of forcing him to act out in ways that, even in the moment, had felt wrong to him. But, being young, male, and blinded by his feelings, Matt went along with it anyway.

She'd tried so hard to twist him into a weapon to be used against the Hand, just like Stick. Presenting him with his father's murderer and leaving the man's life in his hands was going to be the final step, but Elektra's plan backfired. That had been the day Matt realized he could use his skills to fight injustice as both a lawyer and, though his alter ego didn't have a name then, Daredevil.

Jessica Jones was different.

On her best days she was a snarky, sarcastic, anti-social, and prone to driving him mad with her wit and dry humor. On her worst, she could tear apart the bravest of men with words alone and terrify a city with a single look. As of late, he'd been the recipient of said look on more than one occasion, what with his penchant for taking on pro bono cases. Seeing as how they'd started working together on and off recently, a little more than half of their cases over the last month resulted in warm feelings (though Jessica would never admit it) and empty liquor shelves (_that_ one Jessica wouldn't shut up about).

Though they had their differences and argued more than was probably healthy in those first few weeks, eventually they'd found a rhythm and flow. Good-natured teasing took the place of angered scowls and mutual annoyance gave way to not-so-subtle flirting that went completely over their heads.

Much to their chagrin, Trish _hadn't_ missed the interactions and, as though she possessed some kind of mental 'Jess-Is-Successfully-Interacting-Socially' radar, managed to pop up at the most awkward moments and call them out on it. Amidst the vehement denials and blazing blushes – not to mention a colorful assortment of words from Jessica and several super-powered temper tantrums – the blonde only laughed, escaping from wherever they happened to be as the duo floundered with hurried excuses.

And yet, despite growing closer, Matt couldn't bring himself to reveal his night job to her. He argued his reluctance was due to force of habit, a long dormant lesson Stick had seared into his brain whilst bandaging up the very wounds he'd inflicted.

"_You take the pain, Matty. You take it, and you use it to fuel that fire and you fight. Any scars you manage to pick up, any wounds well, you keep 'em hidden or you learn how to bullshit on the fly. Of course, if you make a habit of it, it just means you're getting sloppy."_

Deep down he knew the real reason he kept quiet. It was the same reason he'd never told Foggy and later Karen, keeping them at arm's length until, eventually, everything had blown up in his face.

Fear.

Matt normally wasn't one to allow people too close too fast, but Jessica, for all her faults, had managed it in under two months. And he _really_ didn't want to fuck that up. Feeling her leaning against his shoulder, completely at ease and sipping at her drink lazily, shame washed over the vigilante as he once again chickened out, swallowing the words on the tip of his tongue.

Before he could start to worry himself, his senses picked up a pair of footsteps approaching the bar from out on the sidewalk. He titled his head, listening closer.

"_This is going to be good for all of us, Foggy," _Karen's voice registered after a moment_. "These last few months being at odds with Matt haven't been fun. Whatever lesson you were hoping to teach him feels like its backfired on us. I mean, you don't exactly look like you've gotten a lot of sleep lately." _

Ever the voice of reason, was their Ms. Paige.

"_Hey, no need to make it personal, Paige. Marci's already given me more than a few lectures on the importance of sleep and why not getting enough is detrimental to my health." _

And there was Foggy, always on the defensive. Though who Marci was, Matt had no idea.

"You do that a lot, you know."

Matt blinked, his attention falling back to Jessica as she shifted casually, sitting up. "Do what?"

"Cock you head. It's like you've homed in on something and are trying to figure out what it is. Come to think of it, you do it a lot when you're in court and questioning a witness right before you go in for the kill. And they always break. Huh," Jess laughed, slapping his shoulder. "Maybe you've got a superpower, Murdock! _Super_ instincts!"

His voiced cracked a bit as he forced out a laugh, his own heart speeding up at just how close she was to the truth. For all the flack she drew from the police, clients, and those with whom she shared a more personal (he could hear her screaming at him for even _entertaining_ that notion) relationship, the fact remained that Jessica Jones was a hell of a PI.

"MATT!"

Karen's voice saved him from having to respond and, self-preservation being top priority, he stood and greeted the redhead with a small smile, the corner of his lips quirking.

"Hey Karen," he greeted, some of the pain he'd felt over their separation easing as she wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, it's so good to see you!" The reporter gushed, gifting him with a mega-watt smile as she took in his appearance. Whatever she saw must have been to her liking because she let out a laugh of relief and glomped him again.

Returning the embrace, Matt allowed himself a moment to focus solely on the woman in his arms; her heartbeat fast but in obvious excitement at having her friend back. Head titling ever so slightly – he heard a nearly inaudible scoff from Jessica – Matt could taste the salt in the tears beginning to fall down her face.

"Come on now, Ms. Paige, no reason to shed any tears."

Karen pulled away and swiped furiously at her face, a small blush rising in her cheeks. "Gah! Don't make fun of me, Matt. It's just been a while and I'm just _really_ happy to see you!" Dabbing once more at her eyes, she blinked when she caught sight of the woman over his shoulder. "Oh! Who's your friend?"

"This is…"

"Jessica Jones," the woman in question interrupted, cutting off Matt's response and offering a hand to Karen. "Drinking buddy to the bitchiest blind lawyer I've ever met and the best private dick in the city."

Stunned at the crude introduction, and not sure whether she should feel offended at the ravenette's description of her friend, Karen instead took the offered hand with a bewildered expression, eyes wide. "I…uh, Karen Paige."

"Pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," Jessica said with a shark-like grin. Turning to Matt, she continued. "You know, Murdock, the way you described her, I thought she'd be more eloquent. She looks like someone –"

He beat her to the punch. "—Pissed in her cheerios?"

Karen's mouth fell open as her gaze flipped back and forth between the two, unsure what had just happened.

"Damn you, Murdock! You _stole_ my thunder, you prick!"

Heavy, tentative footsteps heralded yet another timely arrival. "Well, if you hang around him long enough, he starts to grow on you. Though you will find he's incredibly hard to get the drop on when it comes to…everything, really." Foggy stopped next to Karen and offered his own hand to Jessica. "Foggy Nelson, attorney for –"

"_Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz_. I'm aware. Good to meet you," Jessica said dispassionately, the lack of interest on her face obvious in the flat look she was giving him. "I've heard about you, Nelson."

Foggy swallowed. "Uh, good things I hope?"

"I've yet to decide. Please, sit. I'll go and get some drinks."

She left to the bar, completely aware of the three pairs of eyes following her, smirk on her face.

"Well, she's certainly _something_," Foggy announced after a brief silence, meeting Karen's gaze with raised eyebrows.

"That's one way to put it. I don't know if I've ever met someone so…blunt, I guess would be the best word. And that includes Frank." Karen adjusted her purse with a shrug. "Interesting company you're keeping, Matt."

Matt chuckled and shook his head, a smile of his own pulling at his lips, listening to the resigned reluctance that colored The PI's voice as she was engaged in conversation by the perpetually happy fry cook Austin. "Jess is certainly unique. Trust me, she grows on you." He gestured to the booth. "Come on, let's catch up."

They moved to the sequestered table and both Foggy and Karen shared a glance at the number of shot glasses scattered over the surface.

"So, you've made a new friend," Foggy started, mentally trying to tally just how much liquor had been downed prior to their arrival. "And picked up a rather unhealthy drinking habit it seems."

_SMACK_!

"Ow! Karen! Why?"

"Because you _promised_ you wouldn't be an ass, Foggy! And yet, five seconds in, here we are!"

"Oh, like you're _not_ concerned at the current population of shot glasses in front of you!"

"Of course I am! But that doesn't mean you take the first opportunity to jump down his throat about it! We are trying to _mend_ fences, not burn them to the ground!"

It was such a throwback to when they were all on better terms that Matt couldn't suppress a chuckle. Foggy and Karen going back and forth on one issue or another and him just sitting back and enjoying the show – a staple of _Nelson & Murdock_.

His laughter caught their attention.

"Well, I'm glad your new fight against alcoholism is so amusing to you," Foggy bit out, a sour look on his face. "But, hey, maybe we can help with this one."

Matt caught Karen's hand before she could thump his old partner again. "Easy, Karen. I deserved that one. I'm not an alcoholic though, Fog, sorry to break it to you. I've only had a couple of beers so far."

Both blondes looked at him, then glanced to the table, took another mental count, and then threw him inquisitive – if alarmed – looks.

"She…Jessica…_she_ drank all of these?!" Karen gasped, aghast.

"Holy…how is she not dead?!" Foggy's question bordered more along the amazed end of the spectrum, Matt could detect more than a hint of concern as well.

A valid question the vigilante had often asked himself in those first few weeks. He'd gotten several answers out of Jessica, though he took each of them with a grain of salt. So, he went with the least ridiculous answer she'd given him. "She's got a strong liver."

"Oh, yeah, _that _makes sense!" The sarcasm in Foggy's voice was thick. "What, is she some kind of superhuman?"

Matt cocked his head. "You've never heard of her? She's done some work for your employers before and, as good as she is at private investigating, her antics aren't exactly subtle."

It seemed something clicked in Karen's mind at his words. "Wait! That's _the_ Jessica Jones?! The one who stopped the Killgrave murders?"

"Yes," Matt admitted, his attention slipping briefly to make sure Jessica was still at the bar. "But I'd suggest you _not_ ask about it. Especially if you want to avoid grievous bodily harm." He heard them shift in discomfort. "It's a sensitive topic."

Before the lawyer in him could prompt another question out of Foggy, Karen cut in, managing to keep her own curiosity at bay in favor of a different topic.

"How have you been, Matt? I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but we've been worried about you. Josie told us you weren't doing so well a while back. Foggy had to tip her a pretty penny to get anything out of her after that. Eventually, she told us you had a new friend." The reporter grinned at him, mischief in her eyes, knowing he could interpret the look. "_So_, Mr. Murdock, is she your _special_ friend?"

He knew, despite his best efforts, that neither Foggy nor Karen missed the blush that dusted his cheeks. Unlike Jess who preferred to live in an almost constant haze of alcohol and self-deprecation, his oldest friends were completely sober and in control of all their faculties. He could practically hear the sparkle in Karen's eyes and taste Foggy's spluttering disbelief.

"She's not.._we're_ not…there's nothing going on!"

It was his best defense.

It was also a pathetic one.

"Huh," Foggy snorted, an eyebrow raised, and disbelief etched on his face. "That's the weakest attempt at denial I've seen in my entire _life_, Matt. And that _includes_ the Castle trial. You know, where our client publicly announced the fact that he wanted to keep on _killing_ people!"

Despite his floundering, Matt was still able to hear Karen's scowl and the muscles twisting in her neck as she turned to glare at Foggy. He grinned at the reprimand that followed.

"Really, Foggy? You're bringing Frank up _again_? I swear to God, I share one _private_ thing with you, and you throw it back in my face at every opportunity!" She punched his arm. "Besides, this isn't about me, remember? It's about ribbing Matt about his new acquaintance."

Said lawyer grumbled internally, not at all pleased with how quickly the conversation returned to the topic of Jessica.

"So," Karen prompted as Foggy rubbed his arm, throwing a wounded look at the reporter. "Who _is_ Jessica Jones to you, Matt Murdock?"

"She's a woman who doesn't give a shit what you think of her." Jessica's voice startled both newcomers and prompted a grin from Matt. "Honestly. I could _not_ give less of a fuck about your opinions, especially if you're basing them off what the news has been saying about me."

She deposited a pitcher of beer and four glasses on the table. In one smooth motion, she slid in next to Matt, snagged a glass, poured herself a healthy serving, and proceeded to drink the entire thing. Fifteen seconds later, and to the complete astonishment – and slight disgust – of her small audience, she slammed the empty dish back down.

"Ah! I'd still prefer whiskey, but I guess this swill ain't too bad." Jess shook her head. "Damn. Now I'm going to have to pretend to hate it when Adam asks what I thought of it."

Matt snorted and shook his head. "Still making bets with Josie's second in command, huh? One of these days, Jess, you're going to have to admit the man knows his alcohol."

"Never gonna happen, Murdock." She looked at the still stunned faces in front of her and shot them a smirk. "Before you ask, yes, I _can_ drink like that and still maintain my girlish figure. It's a talent."

Foggy opened his mouth to say something and then flinched when Karen's heel came down on his foot.

"I think we can do that, Ms. Jones," the journalist assured her with a smile. "From what _I've_ seen of you, you're a hard-ass, but you get the job done."

Jess stared at her fellow female for a long moment and then smirked. "I like you, Paige. You and me? We're gonna get along _just_ fine." The smile fell when she turned to Foggy. "Nelson, on the other hand…I feel like you're going to be a giant pain in my ass. Even if I _do_ work for your boss."

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Foggy countered snippily, pouring himself a beer with a disgruntled look on his face. He took a sip and, under his breath, bit out a curse. "What's one more fucking vigilante to the mix?"

Matt tensed, going still as he tried to discern whether Jessica had caught the put-upon whisper. Unable to detect a change, he let out a sigh of relief. He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "I think you all are going to be good for each other."

"Of course we are, Murdock!" Jessica grinned. "I made sure to partake in all my heavy liquor _before_ they got here. I'm strictly on beer for the rest of the night!"

"Order up for Jones! Your shots are ready!"

"I'm sorry, Jessica, what were you lying?" Matt smirked as he tilted his head toward the now scowling PI. "Unless mine ears deceive me, I do believe Adam's calling bullshit."

Foggy scoffed, but Jessica ignored him. "In my defense, the idea behind the shots is the reconciliation that has already –" she glanced at the trio in turn quickly "– that will _eventually_ take place. I got one for everybody!"

With that, she gave the blind lawyer a playful nudge and headed toward the bar.

Foggy glowered after her.

Karen stared at Matt, positively beaming.

Matt, hyper-senses in full swing, could _feel_ the redhead vibrating in excitement, her enthusiasm rolling off her in waves that were almost tangible.

"She is _so_ into you," Karen managed after a minute, ridiculous grin still on her face.

"Probably because she doesn't know you moonlight as a vigilante." Foggy said, bringing his scowl back to his oldest friend. "I can't imagine she'd be down with you beating the ever-loving shit out of criminals every night. Seems a bit counter-productive to her own job."

Karen scoffed, swatting at the blonde's arm. "You _are_ familiar with the people your boss employs, right? She's not exactly rainbows and sunshine!"

"But _she_ defers to the cops. She'd probably turn you in if she ever found out, Matt!"

Even though he wanted to deny it outright, Foggy's words echoed the very real fear Matt felt every time he came close to revealing the truth to Jessica. Not that she'd turn him in – he _hoped_ she'd give him that courtesy – but that she'd just…leave.

"Jess wouldn't do that, Fog."

"You've only known her for a couple of _months_, Matt, there's no way you can actually believe that."

Karen's face was slowly twisting into a glower. "Foggy, you promised you weren't going to –"

"Look," Foggy cut her off, his gaze still focused on Matt. "All I'm saying is if you're set on doing this whole hero-vigilante thing – which I'll never be comfortable with, by the way – then I'm not going to stop you. I just…_we_ just ask that you be careful, okay? That includes keeping your secret identity _secret_. The only reason you're not sitting in a cell right now is because the people who _do _know love you and have known you for a long time. I don't think Jessica Jones falls under that category." He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "For her, Daredevil and Matt Murdock need to be two different people."

Matt opened his mouth to speak when the sound of a sharp inhale just behind him caught his attention followed by shattering glass. His stomach dropped.

Jess was back from the bar and, judging by the sudden spike in her heartrate and breath, she'd heard _everything_.

The tart tang of copper filled Matt's mouth and flooded the air on his next breath, revealing the PI'd managed to gouge her hands through the worn material of her fingerless gloves. He could hear the bones of her hands popping as she clenched her fists tight, and the hard set of her jaw at the revelation that she'd been lied to by someone she'd _let_ get close to her.

"Jess –"

"Just shut up, Murdock," she growled, and Matt flinched at the absolute loathing that colored her voice. A sudden hush fell over the bar, save for the sound of the jukebox belting out a random country number. Every eye in the room zeroed in on the slight woman as she fought tooth and nail to contain her rage. Even Tim, stalwart bouncer and outmatched though he was, pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward them. "You shut your god-damn _lying_ mouth!"

Obediently, the now exposed vigilante bit his tongue even as he heard Karen and Foggy trying to muster up a half-assed excuse in his defense. But he knew Jessica – no matter what they said, it wouldn't matter.

He'd lied to her.

She approached him slowly, each step measured and a fearsome expression on her face. Stopping only inches away from him, she put a hand on the table and leaned forward crossing into his personal space.

"I trusted you, Matt. I trusted you with some of my darkest secrets and you couldn't be bothered to return the favor. I'm curious," she laughed bitterly to hide the smallest of sniffles, and Matt was stunned to taste salt-water in the air. "What did you think I would do if you told me, huh? Sell the story to the papers? Heh…give it to Trish?"

He shook his head. "No, Jess, I…"

She moved suddenly, hauling him bodily off his seat by his collar and pulling him toward her until they were face to face. "No. No, I would have kept my mouth shut because you _trusted_ me enough to tell me! You gave that bit of yourself to me and I would _never_ have used it against you. I may be an asshole, Matt, but I'm not one hundred percent a dick."

With that, the fire and fight seemed to leave her, and she let him go, dropping him back into his seat. Taking a steadying breath, the private investigator turned to leave.

"Jessica –"

"Just stay away from me," she interrupted, not looking back. "We're done, Murdock."

No one stopped her as she walked out.

And in that moment, staring sightlessly after her, Matt had never felt so blind.

* * *

**A/N: There you have it! No Luke Cage or Iron Fist this chapter because I really felt that it would be better served to focus solely on Matt and Jessica's growing relationship. **

**Let me know what you thought by dropping a review! **


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